Space search v1, p.7
Space Search (v1.)), page 7
Venu said, astonished, “But there can be no wars between planets that belong to Allied Worlds.”
“Theoretically,” Whip Gunther said. “However, with five thousand planets belonging to the confederation, some of which are so far off that it takes a coon’s age to travel back to Earth and the administration there, it can and does happen.”
Venu said, “We return to the point. The point is that if we find my father has died of violence, then I am rishi of the sub-caste of the Expediters. If we find him alive, remote though that now seems, he is still rishi.”
“All right. What’s that got to do with it?”
“If I am rishi, I can adopt you into my family and my caste. If my father is, he can adopt you. You would be not only a Harappan citizen, and safe from alien police, but a man of wealth.”
Whip Gunther eyed him. “What if we don’t find your father, either dead or alive?”
And Venu stared back at him. “Then you and I are both lost.”
Whip Gunther came to his feet and paced the room. He growled. “You’re a tougher kid than you first seem to be.”
Venu held his peace. He did not feel like a tough kid, if he interpreted the other’s words correctly. He neither felt like one nor wanted to be one. Right now, what he desperately wanted was to be back on Harappa, attending the University of New Bombay and living in the bungalow with his sister, Santha, and in the company of his friends Attia and Kamala.
The interplanetary adventurer was saying, “Hari Maroon is one of the most ruthless men going. He plays for keeps.”
“But I have heard it said that you are the most dangerous man on Tangier.”
Gunther snorted sourly. “Maroon is possibly the most dangerous man in Allied Worlds.”
“You are afraid of him?”
Whip Gunther rubbed his mouth with the back of his right hand. “You’re sure you don’t have a drink around here?” And then, “Of course I’m afraid of him. I’m not stupid. I’m a small-time operator. He could probably buy up a couple of worlds out of his petty cash and throw their whole military might around, wherever he wanted to throw it. He can stomp on somebody like me without bothering to remember he did it.”
“When you spoke of him, I gained the impression you respected my father.”
“Yes, damn it!”
Venu said nothing more, for the time.
Whip Gunther fished into his jacket pocket and came forth with a pistol. He handed it to Venu Jhabvola.
“All right,” he said. “It’s a deal. We try to find Hari Maroon, and through him, your father. If we pull it off, you adopt me. Offhand, I can’t remember my parents, but I suppose you’ll make as acceptable a one as either of them, although you’re a bit younger, I imagine.”
Venu looked blankly at the gun. “What is this?”
“That’s the shooter that your friend Mohammed tried to do you in with. I picked it up, there in front of the Safari. Do you know how to use it, I should be so silly as to ask?”
“No.”
“All right. I’ll start instructions in the morning.” He looked about the room. “I can sleep here, on the couch.”
Venu tried to cope with the quick-moving events. “Perhaps that would be best. You must go to your own quarters and pick up your things.”
Whip Gunther shook his head. “No. I’ll have to ditch my things, as you call them. You see, Sonny, somebody is out to get you— but bad. And possibly they’re already onto the fact that we’ve linked up. We’ll never go back to the hole-in-the-wall I lived in and we’ll get out of here tomorrow. If I had good sense, we’d get out tonight, but the El Minzah is the most expensive pad in Meknes and the best guarded. I think we’re safe for one night.”
11
Early in the morning, at first dawn, Whip Gunther took over, very efficiently.
He said, “Now, all these interplanetary credits you say you have. Can you get them out of Harappa to the extent we need them, or are they all tied up?”
“They aren’t on Harappa, Sahib Whip Gunther. They’re in banks on the planet Geneva and I have an interplanetary credit card.”
“Just call me Whip, especially in view of the fact that if this all works out you’re going to be my daddy. Fine. We’re going to need credits. Lots of them. We’ll have breakfast and then get out of here.” He went over to the suite’s order screen, saying over his shoulder, “How do ham and eggs sound to you?
“I would prefer yogurt, fruit, and tea, Sahib Whip. On Harappa we do not eat the flesh of animals.”
Whip Gunther looked at him. “It doesn’t sound much like the kind of diet for a shikari of men. I’ll stick to meat.”
He gave the order into the screen, and shortly the center of the delivery table sank down to return with the food, napkins, and utensils.
As they ate, Whip Gunther said thoughtfully, “I know a place where we can hide out until we make arrangements.”
Venu said, “What arrangements, Sahib Whip? How can we possibly find this Hari Maroon? He left Medea after finishing the business arrangements for the uranium and has disappeared.”
Whip Gunther grunted. “Nobody disappears if he’s still alive, Venu. Maybe he might try, and even stay undercover for a time, but if you want to find him badly enough and have enough credits to grease enough palms, sooner or later you can locate him. All right, let’s finish this food off. Then get your things together.”
Venu had little packing to do. He got his two bags and the hamper.
The other looked at the third piece of luggage. “What’s that?”
“It is to carry my fruits, vegetables, and other foods that it is possible for me to eat.”
The older man rolled his eyes upward. “You mean we’ve got to carry that all over with us, just because you can’t eat ordinary tucker?”
«
Venu Jhabvola looked at him evenly. “On Harappa it is believed one gains merit in this incarnation by refraining from the devouring of our fellow life forms.”
“All right. I wouldn’t want to see you lose merit,” Gunther said dryly. “Now this is what we do. Put your credit card on the order screen over there and tell them you want your bill immediately. They’ll deduct the amount and we’ll scoot out of here.”
Venu did as he was told, somewhat shocked by the amount.
Whip Gunther brought out his laser pistol, checked it, and returned it to its place. Then he picked up one of the suitcases in his left hand and said, “You take the other bag and hamper. It’s more important for me to have one hand free than for you. Let’s hurry. For all we know, somebody is already taking steps to intercept us.”
They hurried out into the hall and down it to the stairs, Whip Gunther’s eyes darting in all directions. Considering his size, he moved with the grace of a cat.
Venu said, ‘‘Wouldn’t it be faster if we took the elevator?”
“Faster, but not as safe. We’re not going to the lobby, we’re going to the basement.”
The Harappan youth was slightly winded by the time they reached that destination, particularly in view of his load. But the big man didn’t hesitate for a moment. He seemed instinctively to know where he was heading. They reached a circular steel steps and went up it to find themselves in an alley behind the hotel. They hurried along to its entrance.
Whip Gunther looked up and down the street before emerging. “This is the Rue Tarik,” he said. “Not much traffic. But we’ll walk a block or two before getting a cab. There doesn’t seem to be anyone staked out back here. Possibly they haven’t even found out yet that your pal Mohammed is no longer with us.”
He kept up a rapid pace. At this hour, there were few pedestrians and even those showed them little interest. It would seem it wasn’t polite on the planet Tangier to be inquisitive*about the business of others. Venu was quite out of breath by the time they hailed a hovercab.
Whip Gunther said to the driver. “Kasbah.”
Venu said, “Where do we go?”
“To the most disreputable part of town. The part of the medina up on top of the hill, where not even the police patrol after dark.
Every Arab town of any size has a kasbah. In the old days, it used to be the final fort where the local sultan or caid, or whatever, made his last stand if the city fell.”
He was looking over his shoulder out the back window. “Nobody following,” he muttered.
Venu was feeling an edge of excitement. It seemed a strange way to be trailing Hari Maroon. They seemed to be the ones who were being pursued, rather than pursuing.
They emerged from the medina wall through one of the enormous horseshoe-shaped gates, turned sharply right, and took the street paralleling the wall. The way began to rise quite steeply. After perhaps a mile, they came to another gate and swung through it.
“Kasbah,” Whip Gunther said briefly. “From now on, we have to walk. Streets are too narrow for a hovercab.”
Their vehicle had stopped. They got out and Whip Gunther paid the driver. They took up their luggage and started off again, this time down the winding, sinister alleys— Venu couldn’t think of them as streets.
They wound about, up one narrow way, down another. They seemed to retrace their steps. Shortly Venu was so confused that he was convinced that he could never have found his way out of the area again.
Finally, they stopped before a large, dark house, windowless on the ground floor. Whip Gunther looked up and down the street, which was empty, the day still being so young, and pounded on the door.
“Where are we?” Venu said.
“Home of Ahmed Abdallah,” Whip Gunther told him. “He’s a fixer. An operator. Something like your father—an expediter— but your father was honest.”
“And Ahmed Abdallah is not? Then how can we trust him?”
Whip Gunther grunted. “He owes me a few favors, but that isn’t what will motivate him. Your interplanetary credits will. Nobody on Tangier is honest, but all can be bought.”
The door opened and a veiled woman dressed in what looked like a white bedsheet was there. She eyed them wordlessly, stood aside so they could enter. Whip Gunther cast his eyes up and down the alleyway once more and followed Venu inside.
He said, “Fatima, I desire to see Ahmed.”
She turned and left, leaving them standing in the. ornate entry. Once again, Venu was reminded of some of the historic Tri-Di shows he had seen of the old days of Morocco and Algeria, of Saudi Arabia and Iraq.
He was astonished at the interior of the building, as compared to the grim, forbidding exterior. One could never have suspected that a veritable palace lay behind those dirty walls. The roof was exquisitely decorated in blue, brown, red, and gold tile and the columns supporting it sprang out into arch form in a remarkably beautiful manner. The floor was covered with a rug so rich that Venu had never seen such, even on Harappa where the rug art was highly developed.
He said to Whip Gunther, who had put his bag down and was now obviously impatient, “How did you know her name was Fatima? Her dress was such that surely you could make out no features. It is ill that women should be made to dress so. It degrades them. There is an old Hindu proverb. Where women are venerated, the gods are complacent.”
His companion said, “Well, they aren’t venerated on Tangier. And with a Moslem woman, when in doubt, call her Fatima. Practically all of them are named Fatima, just like practically all of the men are named Mohammed. Fatima was the daughter of the Prophet.”
The woman—at least Venu assumed it was the same one—came back and made a slight flourish with a hand to indicate for them to follow.
They followed her down a short hallway, through a small patio which featured an alabaster fountain in its center, to a comparatively small room beyond, which opened onto the patio but had no windows. All light came through the door.
The room was quite spartan, as compared to the rest of the house that Venu had thus far seen, and was furnitureless, save for a few hassocks. A man dressed much as had been Mohammed ibn Idriss, but whose djellabah was of rich silk, was seated, cross-legged, on a red leather hassock. He wore a red fez.
At their entrance, he bowed his head slightly, touched forehead, lips, and heart with his right fingertips, and said, “My friend, the dauntless Whip Gunther. May your life be as long and flowing as the tail of the horse of the Prophet.”
He was overly plump with a very fat mouth and very dark eyes, as dark as Venus own. And, somehow, Venu felt, he was a man of evil and not acquiring merit in this incarnation. *
Whip Gunther said, “Ahmed, this is a young friend of mine for whom I am working. Names will not be necessary.”
The other took in Venu Jhabvola. “So be it. My house is your house. Welcome. Be seated effendis, and I will have Fatima bring mint tea.” He clapped his hands, only gently, but the woman was there. He spoke to her in a language Venu did not understand.
Whip Gunther and Venu took the proffered hassocks and the interplanetary adventurer and the Meknes fixer, as Gunther had called him, exchanged meaningless pleasantries. The tea came on a great brass tray, and their host served.
The tea, Venu found, was so sweet as to be almost impossible, but the mint flavor was pleasant. It would seem they were going through a ceremony preceding business that Venu was not acquainted with, though his own people were also long on protocol.
When they had finished the third small cup of tea, Ahmed Abdallah put his cup down definitely. “And now, effendis, undoubtedly matters of great moment have brought you to my humble home. How can I serve you?”
Whip Gunther grunted amusement, and looked into the elaborate patio. “This is one of the least humble homes I think I have ever been in.”
Venu was shocked at the grossness, but their host said smoothly, “Verily, you are too kind, Whip Gunther.”
Whip Gunther got to business. “Ahmed, I’m going to have to leave Tangier.”
The other bowed his head in acceptance. “Soon to return, I pray. There are, of course, ramifications.”
Whip Gunther nodded to that. “I shall need a slight amount of plastic surgery. I need more than a slight amount, actually, but I haven’t the time needed for healing of the scars.”
The other nodded, as though it was the most reasonable suggestion that could be made.
“I also need false identification. An interplanetary credit card and the various other papers of some planet, any planet will do, so long as it is a member of Allied Worlds.”
The other closed his eyes briefly in thought. “Do you have any interplanetary credits, my friend Whip Gunther? Because if you have not, your cover will be blown the first time you try to utilize the credit card. The computers are most difficult to confuse.”
Whip Gunther looked at Venu, who nodded slightly to him. He said, “I’ll have an amount transferred to my account.”
“Very well. What else?”
“I want to find the whereabouts of Hari Maroon.” Ahmed Abdullah’s eyes were suddenly slits. “Why?”
“I am not free to say.”
The Moor looked at Venu. “In this young man’s behalf?”
“It is of no consequence.”
“Friend Whip Gunther, verily, as all men know, one does not antagonize Hari Maroon.”
Whip Gunther simply looked at him.
The Meknes wheeler-dealer sighed and said, “Do you have any idea where to begin? Hari Maroon is an elusive man.”
“He was on Medea not too long ago. We don’t know where he went. But he must have had to file a flight plan when he left. Do you have contacts in government on Medea?”
“Of course. But such information is classified.”
“We are willing to pay for it.”
The other’s eyes were narrow again in his fat face. “What else?”
“We need a place to stay until all these things, including my plastic surgery, have been accomplished.”
“I see. Are you being sought by the authorities, friend Whip Gunther?”
Whip Gunther laughed bitterly. “Friend Ahmed, as I thought you were aware, I have been sought by the authorities since I was a teenager.”
“I mean, are you being sought by the authorities here in Meknes?”
Whip shrugged. “Perhaps, I killed a man last night.”
“A citizen of Tangier, or an alien?”
“A citizen of Tangier.”
“How sad. Verily, life is uncertain, as Omar said. Are you, ah, on the lam, as the antique expression has it?”
“Not so far as I know. The regrettable incident was not observed.”
“Were you seen entering my establishment?”
“I don’t think so.”
Their host looked at Venu.
Venu said, “I do not believe we were observed.”
Ahmed Abdallah said, “Perhaps you can stay here. However …”
“Yes, however,” Whip Gunther said. “You owe me your life, on at least one occasion, Ahmed, but I am not asking for favors. Roughly, what will all these services amount to?”
The oily operator made a gesture of deprecation with a fat hand. “But for you …”
Whip Gunther rose cynically to the occasion. “No, my good friend, I insist.”
The other thought about it, his plump lips moving in and out. “Including the necessary bakshish for the authorities on Medea, to learn the flight plan of Hari Maroon, one hundred thousand interplanetary credits.”
“One hundred thousand! Are you mad?”
The other was firm. “You must realize that I run the risk of antagonizing Hari Maroon, if it is discovered that I have assisted you against his interests.”
Whip Gunther looked at Venu, who was appalled. “Can you stand that?”
Venu steeled himself. “Yes.”
Whip Gunther turned back to their host. “All right. Let’s get to it. You know of a discreet physician who can perform the plastic surgery?”
“Of course, my friend.”
Whip Gunther stood. “We will also need complete outfits. Clothes as inconspicuous as possible. Earth-style would probably be best.”
Venu looked down at his familiar and comfortable achkan tunic and his jodhpurs. “But I have all the clothing I shall need, Sahib Whip.”
